


bad luck on your side

by orphan_account



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Gen, M/M, there's a lot of people in this but most are background
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-08 10:45:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4301754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>josh dun was out of his element and stuck with some annoying coworkers at one of the most high profile places in the world</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. out of your league

**Author's Note:**

> i can't stop starting new fanfictions i am so so sorry also this is unbetaed like most (all) of my fics

Josh hovered over the keyboard, fingers poised to pounce onto the letters. He had been hunched over like this for the past two, or three, or four minutes. It felt more like two, or three, or four weeks, with his “partner” Tyler breathing down his neck.

“That’s not gonna be the password,” Tyler said again, probably for the tenth time this second. “That’s just not gonna be it. You’re gonna blow this mission.”

Josh huffed in response, the air moving some of his black curls away from his face. “You don’t know _anything_ , Joseph. You’re the brawn, I’m the brains.” 

He felt Tyler’s forearms cross on his back, and Tyler placed his chin on top of Josh’s head. 

They both stared at the blue computer screen, illuminating the dark in the room. Josh was sure he could crack this code. He was sure of it! Years of self-teaching and then, like, “professional” teaching or whatever, had given him invaluable skills and knowledge that would, of course, allow him to hack into this system. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. It was still as nerve-wracking as ever, especially with Tyler getting all up in his personal space. Slowly, he typed in “J-E-L-L-O” in the password box.    
And then they accessed the wi-fi network. 

“SCOOOOOOOORE!” Josh yelled, pumping his fists and almost punching Tyler in the face. He spun around in his chair and jabbed a finger at his counterpart. “I _told_ you the password was Jello! They put it right in their goddamn wi-fi name, ‘the pass is jello.’ Like, Jesus!”

“It coulda been a trick,” Tyler said with a pout, looking a lot like a pissed off toddler. He crossed his arms tightly and adopted a defensive stance, something he learned from The Farm, no doubt. “They’re always trying to trick us.” His short brown hair was trimmed and faded well, pointing up in a short of faux-mohawk. Josh never understood his obsession with looks when most of the time the point of his job was to stay hidden. Dark lines of tattoos circled his left arm. 

“It’s just wi-fi, you idiots,” an annoyed voice called from another cubicle. Brendon Urie walked over and stood dangerously close, hands on his hips. “We have actual wi-fi here, that you guys are like, _allowed_ on.” He flicked the light on. 

Josh bit the inside of his lip and gave Urie a once-over. Or twice over. Three times over. Goddamn, if he wasn’t a good looking dude. Another agent who prided himself on being sexy and svelte when usually they had to wear disguises and be covert. Josh never understood that, but he guessed that was why he was behind the computer most of the time.

“If you guys want more training, _ask_ for more training. Jesus Christ, I don’t even know why you two got hired.” 

Tyler stuck his tongue out at Brendon, who adjusted his coat and swiftly left the cubicle again. 

“God, he acts like we got hired together or something, like a package deal. Ew.” Tyler placed his stupidly perky ass — not that Josh had noticed or anything — on Josh’s desk.

“Yeah, god forbid we work together,” Josh mumbled and turned back to his workstation. He attempted to brush Tyler away like one might brush a fly off. “I have important work things I need to be doing right now, though.”

Tyler huffed and crossed his arms, refusing to move. “I just don’t understand why they can’t send me out for consultations like Stump. Why does he get all the good assignments? I almost got my ass shot up in Estonia and Stump gets to go live the cushy life in fucking Quantico.” 

“Is that right?”

He shot Josh a look and continued. “I like my job a lot, don’t get me wrong! But good God.” Tyler scratched the back of his head. 

“I’m not a therapist, Joseph.”

“Whatever Dunshine, at least I’m not holed up in a dark little room all the time.”

Josh furrowed his brow and made a show of looking around. “I’m in the bullpen.” 

Waving his hand around, Tyler walked away from him, and Josh finally was able to release a deep breath. Being a hacker and computer technician and software engineer and overall badass at the CIA was hard enough as it is. Just the daily tasks could range from grueling to insufferable. What Josh Dun didn’t need was a jumpy, annoying spy hanging around his cubicle and making everything a big production. Over the few months he’d been here he’d realized one thing about people who did espionage: they were whiny and dramatic. Which was probably understandable because the job does wear on your soul, but Josh figured that people should know that coming in. Isn’t that what they pound into you at The Farm? Tyler should be even more aware of that since he went through the Marine Corps. Josh looked around at the various agents and computer geeks sitting around him. 

Brendon was in his office which overlooked the bullpen. The entire wall was glass and had curtains to pull closed when he needed privacy. Fucking jackass. His suit was likely Dior or McQueen or Givenchy or some designer that Josh didn’t know existed and probably couldn’t pronounce. And while he wasn’t the most fashion-savvy guy, he knew that the suit had been tailored professionally for Brendon. To fit his stupid apple bottom. Jackass. 

The office next to his belonged to an agent Ryan Ross, Esquire, something, something. Ross had been an English Literature major during most of his college career, from what Josh had heard. And then got a law degree from Harvard. Just like every other overachiever in this place. Compared to a lot of other people, he was pretty quiet, and kept to himself. He had a few close friends — like Brendon, and oh god, Josh did _not_ want to know what kind of friends they were — but he mostly kept his head in the game and eyes on the job. Usually. His shades were drawn.

On either side of him were two more computer geniuses. One Gerard Way and one Hayley Williams. Gerard’s story was probably just as weird as Josh’s. Maybe less weird. They had attended the School of Visual Arts in New York City and did a lot of comic book stuff until the government discovered that they were way too good at getting into the darkest corners of the internet and they ended up here. Hayley managed to get to the CIA in a way that was legal. She was great, went to MIT, and even got through The Farm. 

Josh tapped a pen against his bottom lip and watched lines of code change on his computer screen. Right now, he was trying to figure out a cipher being transmitted by weapons dealers from Russia into the US. Goddamn. The only reason Josh had gotten this job was due to a major fluke. Most of the time, hackers in Anonymous stayed, well, fucking Anonymous. They did their job: get the truth to show the public and then get the hell out of whatever dangerous hole of the internet you had gotten yourself into. One night, during a major cyber-raid, Josh had been careless. The cause was something he was really passionate about, so he worked himself up, and left a tiny little breadcrumb of data. Just one, minuscule thing. But, of course, the CIA’s drones — funny he still thinks that, now that he is one — ate it up and found him. 

Another thing you learn when you start working for the government is that they’re all a bunch of hypocrites. Josh had a choice, and he remembered that choice, sitting in a cold room on a cold metal chair at a cold metal table that was bolted to the floor. He remembered Brendon and Ross and another agent, Pete Wentz, hovering over him. Gerard sat in the corner, eyes cast at the floor. They had been the one who figured out Josh. And they knew the two ways this could end. 

You either join them, or they throw you in jail for life. Josh made the smart choice.

The same day that Josh started, bags in hand and under his eyes, Tyler arrived. Everyone had been speaking in hushed tones about this rogue military officer who was damn good at his job, but rarely followed the rules. Apparently, he managed to not go through boot camp at all, thanks to his great persuasive skills. Josh didn’t know what anyone meant by that, until he met him. That first day Tyler was dressed in his former Marine uniform, and he stood in the bullpen at attention, hat off, hair perfect, jaw sharp; and like Jesus, God, fuck, he looked good. And he knew it. He caught Josh’s eye, quirked his eyebrows ever so slightly and smirked. Josh was humiliated when he realized his mouth had been agape the entire time. 

As impressive and slightly intimidating Tyler was, Josh quickly learned that he was exactly what everyone said he was: damn talented, but rarely on top of things. And if he was paying attention, he made up his own protocol. He was an entitled douchebag. A hot, smart, seductive, talented douchebag. A douchebag that Josh had to deal with now. Because as much as Tyler ragged on Josh, he needed him. Josh knew his way around a computer, while Tyler could only work his iPhone (barely). Josh directed Tyler through most missions, was the reason Tyler _didn’t_ get his ass shot up in Estonia, and the reason Tyler had a working laptop. 

Josh glanced over his shoulder into Tyler’s cubicle. He was playing Solitaire. Josh rolled his eyes. 

This was gonna be a long ass life.


	2. how it is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> urie and ross need to tone it down

“That should be illegal,” Tyler said through gritted teeth, watching Brendon on the other side of the club. The man was between others, one slotting his thigh between Brendon’s legs and the other had his arms around Brendon’s shoulders. They were making out beside his face and Brendon looked at them with an empty sort of ecstasy, eyes glazed over. 

He was wearing this disgusting red suit, fucking tailored for him, obviously. A suit in a goddamn gay club. Josh rolled his eyes and sipped his mojito. Ryan Ross was sitting at the table with him and Tyler, a beer in hand. For some reason he didn’t look pissed off that his fuckbuddy was getting low with some random dudes. He watched closely, eyes huge and dark in the dimness of the club. 

Ryan nodded. “I could sue.” 

“For what?” Josh retorted.

“Pain and suffering.” Ryan hadn’t taken his eyes off Brendon, and Josh realized that Brendon was throwing glances back at him. He slowly pieced together through his growing buzz that this was some kind of weird kinky thing they were partaking in and he grimaced. He turned back to Tyler, whose eyes were also glued to Brendon. 

“Please tell me you don’t have a hard on for Urie,” Josh groaned. 

Tyler cut his eyes to Josh. Tyler sipped his margarita and shrugged. Josh was beginning to wonder why he even agreed to come out to the club with all the agents. The other techies never did shit like this, and he understood why. Usually they never got invited. Lately, the agents had been stressed because there weren’t many assignments. Strangely. Apparently these guys actually enjoyed going into the field and putting their lives in danger. Josh snorted into his drink. Well, someone had to do it, right? Tyler was pretty whiny about it, which was a surprise to Josh because Tyler was such a well-known Marine. 

In a bout of incredible, truly incredible luck, Pete Wentz joined the table, along with some dude named Frank. Josh vaguely recognized Frank. He was pretty sure the guy was also a technical analyst, so he wasn’t as alone as he thought. He smiled at Frank, who smirked back and rolled his eyes. 

“How is everyone tonight?” Pete asked with a grin. 

Ryan and Tyler grunted responses, not taking their eyes off Brendon, who was dropping to the floor between the two men now. 

“Would you two please stop staring at him?” Pete said exasperatedly. Frank snickered and took out his phone to have something to fidget with. 

Tyler finally ripped his gaze away from Brendon, who now had a leg wrapped around one man’s waist while grinding back on the one behind him.

“What’s up, Captain?” Tyler said, sarcasm dripping dangerously in his voice. 

Sometimes — okay, scratch that — most of the time Josh could not believe that Peter Wentz was a former Army captain. It just wasn’t fitting. He was a scatterbrain at best. Not that he wasn’t responsible; he was organized in his disorganization and while he seemed lazy and stupid, it was an act, and he had everything you needed done before you knew you needed it. But still, seeing him downing beer after beer with that weird bleach-blonde hair that was hot pink only a few weeks ago…it was hard to imagine him as a captain. 

Pete rolled his eyes. “Did you hear about the new assignment?” 

“Are we allowed to talk about that in public?” Tyler replied. 

“In vague terms, yes. I hear you’re gonna be assigned.” 

“That sounds great.”

“Oh, it is. Weapons dealer. Balkans.” 

Groaning dramatically, Tyler downed the rest of his margarita and got up to get another from the bar. 

“Does this mean I’m gonna have to work with him more?” Josh said as he moved closer to Pete to hear him better.

“Aw, do you not like Jojo? He’s a sweetie.” Pete’s voice was disgusting. 

“Tyler can be insufferable,” Ryan interjected. He was back to staring at Brendon but still listening in. He glanced at the other two at the table, leering over his glasses. “Actually, Tyler is really insufferable, considering he tried to get into Brendon’s pants and I’m just — ” 

“I did not!” came Tyler’s indignant response. Josh put his head in his hands, knowing that a fight was going to ensue. Across from him, he heard Frank laughing, and next to him Pete stiffened, trying to not feed into the feud. Just as Tyler and Ryan were about to go at each other’s throats, a very drunk and very sweaty Brendon came up behind Ryan and wrapped his arms around his waist. 

“What’ssssss happenin’,” he slurred, nipping at Ryan’s ear. 

Josh looked up through his fingers. He pretended to receive an urgent text that said he needed to go home, so he downed the rest of his mojito and excused himself. 

“Oh come on, that party’s just starting!” Frank said with sadistic glee. 

He couldn’t help but smile at him. Him and Frank got each other, but tonight he was exhausted and was not really up to watching Brendon grope Ryan publicly once again. 

The late October night was chilly. Halloween was fast approaching, and from what he could gather, Gerard was planning something _big_. Josh smiled a little to himself at the thought. The one person who had been the most welcoming to him — other than Frank — was Gerard. He figured they felt pretty bad about the whole cyber-trapping him. In any case, Gerard was a cool person. They loved the creepy and unnerving, stuff that wasn’t quite gory but gave you a sense of uneasiness, making them a kind of expert on horror. And Josh was really looking forward to that office party.

He was so caught up in his thoughts as he stood outside the club trying to will himself to sober up enough to catch a bus, he didn’t even notice that Tyler was standing next to him until he said, “Uh, hey.”

Josh probably would’ve been startled if he wasn’t halfway towards drunk. Instead his eyelids fluttered in what felt like slow motion as he turned his head to look at Tyler. Tyler smiled very softly. The light from the streetlamp above them illuminated Tyler in such a way that his long eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks, which were flushed from alcohol and the cold. Josh felt freezing and fiery at the same time. 

“Hey, Ty,” Josh muttered. He was kind of distracted with how Tyler looked right now. 

“I really had to get out of there,” Tyler chuckled. His eyes were searching Josh’s face, and Josh felt weirdly exposed. “Brendon is like…giving Ryan nothing short of a lap dance right now. And there is only so much I can deal with.”

Josh quickly sputtered into laughter. The thought of an extremely drunk Brendon trying to maneuver his body sexily over Ross was nothing short of hysterical. “That is so gross. I hope no one takes any photos, because that would be a _bitch_ to explain.”

They stood there in the cold, moving closer to each other and laughing. Josh was drunk and Tyler was drunk and that’s what it was. Tyler was insufferable to work with. Tyler was entitled. Tyler was very, very pretty. 

“Are you, uh, going home soon?” Tyler asked when their laughter subsided into awkward silence. 

“As soon as I remember how to take the bus, yeah.” Josh smiled shyly. 

“Oh, cool. Yeah. Me too.” Tyler looked around quickly like he had somewhere to be.

“Ashamed to be seen with the techie?” Josh asked dryly. 

When Tyler turned back to him, his eyes were cold again. Josh tried not to sigh at the loss. “Just drunk and tired, dude.” He stalked off without saying goodnight. 

Josh chewed on his lower lip and tried to not think about why he felt like crying. He was drunk. Fucking drunk. He turned on his heel and started off in the other direction towards his bus stop.


End file.
